


Somebody Make Me Feel Alive

by LadyKnightSkye



Series: Together We'll Cross the River [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, First Meetings, Fix a lot of things., Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKnightSkye/pseuds/LadyKnightSkye
Summary: The Winter Soldier was a machine, a weapon to be cocked and fired at HYDRA's leisure.At least, that is, until he gets hit by a car.And that's when all of HYDRA's careful mechanizations start to fail.~~~~~~~~~~~Alternately: The kids ask about how Bucky and Darcy met.(Formerly titled "Until I Dreamed Of You")





	1. Kids These Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Couple of things first:
> 
> \- I am not a Marvel comics reader, and admittedly decided to write this purely off of what I remember of the movies as well as some Norse myth. I am not opposed, however, if you want to point something out from the comics.
> 
> \- I am, however, well aware that there is such a thing as a Young Avengers team, and probably some comics-canon kids running around. Once again, this is written purely from a movie-universe standpoint.
> 
> \- This is more or less an idyllic "everyone lives happily ever after!!!!" fic because I have too many feels right now after recently rewatching Civil War. WHY CAN"T EVERYONE JUST BE HAPPY?!!
> 
> \- I plan to write at least one sequel for this detailing the events of Civil War, but it is yet to be written, and thus may or may not happen. I'm giving this warning just because of past record. (*looks at multitude of unfinished fics on profile*) However, this particular story is completely written, so this fit WILL BE FINISHED. 
> 
> \- Updates will be made daily as I finish editing. Some chapters may also be edited to catch typos (btw this is not Beta'd) or details I wish to add.
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this slightly cracky, slightly serious, slightly humorous story!
> 
> EDIT: Title and all song lyrics are from Lindsey Stirling's "Shatter Me" featuring Lzzy Hale from her album _Shatter Me_. I own nothing.

_Somebody shine a light on me . . ._

Samuel Grant Barnes put down his book and sighed. “I still can’t find any deets! It’s driving me crazy!”

His sister, Rebecca Jane Barnes, cocked a brow at him. She was younger than he was by two years, but acted like she was twenty instead of twelve. “What are you talking about?”

“Shh!” James Howard Rogers hissed. “Uncle Phil’s coming back!”

Every child whipped their head back to their books, and when the old agent stepped into the classroom he gave each of them a gimlet stare. “Your study period is over. We’ll meet back at two for your PT. Dismissed.”

Coulson was able to sidestep the motley assortment of kids that nearly stampeded out of the classroom. They were of various ages, but all had one thing in common – they were the children of Avengers. Phil couldn’t help but smile at them as they laughed and trickled past him. He was their teacher ever since he’d decided to retire from being a “super secret agent” as Darcy would say. Instead of tracking down HYDRA his days now consisted of tracking down the latest prank pulled by the Wilson-Barnes-Rogers trifecta and hoping to God that Ferro Potts-Stark and Eliza Banner didn’t burn down their lab. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Watching the next generation of Avengers grow was a pleasure, and a sacred duty. Not long after Samuel Grant had been born, they’d discovered that most of their abilities were inheritable. Even Banner’s artificial insemination had yielded a little Hulkette, but thankfully her Other Gal was more controllable than her dad’s. Betty still wasn’t sure she wanted another child, but they were keeping their options open. His own daughter and son were showing that they would love to follow in their mother and father’s footsteps. Suffice to say, Phil realized that he’d gone from the rather easy job of international espionage to the more difficult task of herding a pack of super-powered kittens. He was just glad that Maria helped him in all things.

He did hear the beginning of an intriguing conversation though. “So, Grant, what were you saying?” Jamie Rogers asked.

“I’ve been reading everybody’s origin stories, but I can’t for the life of me find anything on how Mom and Dad met! It just says that they got together following the fall of SHIELDRA.”

“Then that’s how they met,” little Ferro said. She was only six, but she’d inherited Tony’s intelligence.

“Details! I need details!” Grant exclaimed. He preferred being known by his middle name since Sammy wasn’t dignified in his ripe old age of 14.

“Actually,” Sarah Margaret Rogers said glancing up from her tablet, “I’m curious too. All of our parents have their love stories painted across the internet, but there is nothing on the Barneses. Lots of people speculated, but no one has managed to pry those details out of any of our parents.”

“Not to be rude,” Pietro Maximoff Jr cut in, “but you’re wrong. No one digs into Aunt Tasha and Uncle Sam, or Aunt Pepper and Uncle Tony. And even then, everyone’s story is sort of detail-less.”

“General as general could be,” Steven Nicholas Wilson piped up. He looked like a younger version of his father, but had the soft doe eyes of his surrogate. His mom wasn’t able to conceive, but she loved her little Stevie Nick, and his surrogate/biological mom was Aunt Wanda. They were all family anyway, so it really didn’t much matter.

“Why don’t you just ask?” Eliza Banner asked. “I bet your Dad or Mom would be willing to tell the story.”

“Can we come over when you do?” Lila Coulson asked as well. 

Grant and Rebecca shared a look. “Why don’t you guys all come over now?” Rebecca replied.

“Yeah, Dad should be home today, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Grant grinned and began to trot out the door. “Come on! Race ya! And Pietro is referee!”

The entire motley assortment dashed out the doors toward the Barnes’s house. Coulson laughed a little while pulling out his cell. It was not uncommon for all of the kids to visit one house or another, but a heads up was always appreciated. “Barnes,” the other man answered.

“Heads up, the Young Avengers have assembled and are about to descend.” There was a moderately loud “thunk!” in the background.

“Thanks, though I think lil PJ just hit my front door.”

Phil sighed. “We are going to have to work on his control.”

Bucky laughed. “Thanks Phil.”

Coulson hung up, and looked out over the Avengers compound. In the years following the Infinity War, the Avengers had expanded the compound to include not only training areas, but also a small hamlet complete with a playground and in-ground pool. The team even lived together, with the exception of T’Challa and Thor who had kingdoms to run. Instead, Loki was the resident Norse God, but his Sigyn didn’t mind living among the mortals. They had a child as well, but little Ulf was only an infant. The kids were still running pell-mell for the two story Craftsman style on the left, and Phil smiled. PJ Maximoff was heckling them as Grant and Jamie vied for the title of fastest Young Avenger. 

“Phil, you gonna come down or what?”

He turned to find his lovely Maria giving him a little grin. He still wondered what in God’s green Earth had possessed him to ask the First Lady of SHIELD on a date fifteen years ago, but he was glad he’d done it. “Jacob and Lila are over at the Barnes’s.”

“More for us then,” she quipped as they both went down to the kitchen to enjoy their lunch in peace.

~~~~~~

Down at the little Craftsman, Bucky was already accepting that he would not be having a peaceful afternoon. He’d told the kids to help get the food out to the patio round back. They complied, and Bucky wrote a note on the fridge whiteboard that they’d need more chips since ten bags would not last long between thirteen kids and an adult super soldier. Not to mention the eight loaves of bread and three packs of lunch meat they were about to go through. The first ten minutes was dishing out food, making two sandwiches for his younger daughter, Lily the two year-old known to all the Avengers as ‘the Winter Toddler’ for her stubborn streak and vicious temper. Lily was happy to be hanging out with all the big kids, and plopped her Pull-Up clad bottom next to John Christian Wilson. She liked JC, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile at her. 

After a few minutes of inhaling their food, he looked up to see his eldest son giving him a distinctly thoughtful expression. He had his father’s eyes, but they were set in his mother’s round face. Said expression on said face also looked just like the one his mother got just before she went off on a subject that either Bucky would A) not know anything about, B) not really want to talk about, or C) have no choice but to gag her because she was about to insult and pick a fight with someone. He loved his wife, but he had accepted long ago that she was an unholy hybrid of his own mother and Steve. “Yes, oh Son of Winter?”

The other kids giggled at Thor’s nickname for Grant, that oddly, Loki had also adopted. “Dad, how did you and Mom meet exactly?”

Bucky blinked. “We met during the SHIELDRA incident.” Granted, it was not in fact known as that, but once Darcy nicknamed something, it stuck.

“Yeah, but how?” Rebecca pushed.

Bucky took the last bite of his sandwich and nodded. “You guys want to hear the full story, hunh? Okay then.”

The kids all looked eager, and Bucky took a moment to text Maria that he might be keeping the kids for a bit longer than two hours. He took a deep breath because the story would also touch on a past that was painful, but one that he’d made peace with. Sometimes the wounds would weep a bit, but then he’d get a thank you from someone he’d saved, and that would help it to scab over. “ _T’was a dark and stormy night . . ._ ”

Several napkins came flying at his head. He chuckled, and then took another deep breath. The kids knew a little of the story he was about to tell, but he still found it a little hard to begin. Then his lips quirked up in a smile. He could either keep putting it off, or begin his tale with a little dark humor. “It all started when I was in the middle of trying to kill Captain America, Falcon, and Black Widow. So yeah, totally trying to kill your dads and mom, Sarah, James, JC, Steven."

The kids in question all grinned, confident that their parents had given him a run for his money. “So, I was in the middle of fighting Captain America, and he managed to get my mask of. He just sat there and stared for a minute, and I couldn’t figure out why. Then he called me Bucky. At the time, my conditioning was such that I didn’t remember anything about him, and I just kept attacking. He managed to make a break for it, and I chased him into a parking garage. One minute I was chasing my secondary mission objective, and the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back with my right hip killing me and double vision.”

Ferro, the little super genius that she was, figure it out first. “You got hit by a car?”

“Yep,” Bucky confirmed, “and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Now, Grant was no slouch in the intelligence department either, so it didn’t take him but a second to put it all together. “MAMA hit you?”

Bucky clapped his hands together and across like he was playing the crash cymbals. “Backed right into me. She was apparently ticked off about something and didn’t check behind her when she hit the gas. Clipped me right on the hip. I slammed my head on the concrete hard enough to give myself a severe concussion.”

The kids were all sharing wide eyed looks, but Lila Coulson was the one who put it into words. “Aunt Darcy is hardcore.”

The chorus of children’s voices saying “Aunt Darcy is hardcore,” as if they were penitents in a sacred temple was hilarious.

Bucky decided to continue the story. “So there I was, flat on my back, my objective jumping out to the roof of the building adjacent, when this pretty brunette gets out of her car to see what the hell she hit . . .”


	2. For Want of a Nail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's No Good, Awful, Horrible Day.
> 
> The Winter Soldier is not doing so good either.

_If only the clockworks could speak, I wouldn't be so alone . . ._

To say that Darcy was having a shit day was an understatement. She had lost her day job at Starbucks, SHEILD had not had any freelance hacking jobs in weeks, and now she had apparently gotten into a fender bender trying to get out of the parking garage. She opened her door with a minimum of force so as to not scratch up the Prius in the next space, and turned to see no car behind her. However, there was a scary looking dude in tactical gear and some sort of weird arm sleeve laying behind her car.

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed as she hurried to him, and knelt beside him. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond, just blinked at her. He made to sit up, but she pushed him back down. “Hey, wait a minute! Just stay there! You might be really hurt,” she said quickly. She reached into her jeans to grab her cell, but also put a hand to his neck to check his pulse. He stiffened, and grabbed the wrist that held the phone. “No.”

His voice was low and gravelly, almost as if he wasn’t used to talking a lot. “But you’re bleeding,” she whispered. “On the back of your head. You might have a really bad concussion. How many fingers am I holding up?”

She held up three, and she could see his eyes visibly having trouble focusing. “Look, you need a doctor.”

“No,” he said again. “No doctors.” 

Darcy let out a frustrated growl. She couldn’t just let this guy go haring off on his own with a severe concussion. She really, really, really didn’t need this right now. “Look, you need medical attention. Now.”

“Then take me to your home.”

Darcy reared back. “What? Dammit Jim, I’m a barista not a doctor! I don’t know poop about doctoring.”

His eyes were beginning to shut. “No hospital. No police. Or I’ll have to kill you.”

His threat worked. She had been around some bad mother-effers during her time being involved with SHIELD, and that sounded like the kind of threat that would be carried out by a guy like this. On top of that, her overbearing mother-hen tendencies were also screaming at her not to leave him lying in a parking garage, threatening badass or not. Darcy put her phone away as his hand fell away. “No, no! Don’t fall asleep! Come on then you stubborn asshole, at least get in my car!”

There was much swearing and complaining, but Darcy was able to fold up his huge frame into the passenger seat of her tiny, ancient Ford Escort. The car looked like it’d been through the war, but it ran. “Hey,” she said, slapping his face gently, “Wake up!”

He didn’t respond, so she tried his pulse again. It was strong and steady, and Darcy decided to say “Fuck it,” and go home. She could always call SHIELD later to report her unwelcome house guest.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Pain was not unknown to the Soldier. He’d lived with it his entire life whether it was the pain of a gun shot wound or the pain of his nightly visits to the Chair. He was used to doctors roughly wrenching him around as they stuck him with needles, or at best being clinical in their touches. He was also not unfamiliar with random beatings by new guards who wondered just how much punishment he could take when they left him in standby. Invarably that would end with at least one raw recruit dead, but it also taught the others not to mess with him. So the pain that drove jackhammers through his brain was not the problem. 

The problem was that the Soldier could not focus. He knew he had a severe concussion. The woman had clipped him hard enough with her car that he’d been knocked into the truck parked across the corridor from hers, and busted the side of his head against the concrete. The blood on the back of his head was from the antique truck that was built with hardy iron instead of fiberglass. If he were a normal human, this concussion would take weeks to heal, and as it was he was probably in for about 6 to 8 hours of pain. He’d passed out a little on the woman, but had roused when she tried to pull him to his feet, then passed out again when he got to the car. 

Now they were traveling down the highway, and he slitted his eyes to take in his surroundings. The woman had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, but she kept glancing over at him. “You awake?” she asked, her voice sweet and gentle.

“Yes,” he replied. 

“Good,” she said. “We’re almost to my apartment, Mr. Stubborn Pants, but you’ve got to stay awake so that we can get inside. I can’t lift you.”

“I will comply,” he responded, and he didn’t miss the look on her face. Her mouth was gaping, and her eyes narrowed on his face. He ignored it all. The next five minutes were excruciating, but he stayed conscious so that when they arrived at her little duplex in the suburbs they both entered her house without anyone seeing. She led him back to the one bedroom in the tiny place, and gestured to him to lay down. He knew he shouldn’t trust her, but for some reason she didn’t seem to be a threat. _Everyone is a threat, except your handler,_ a voice hissed in his head, spoken with a German accent.

_Now you treat girls with respect young man!,_ a stringent feminine voice said in answer.

_Everyone is a threat!_

The echoes unsettled the Soldier, so he decided to act on what felt familiar. He had no guns, but he had a couple of knives still. He could use them. However, before he could reach, a cool hand gently turned his aching skull to the right. He tensed, ready for more pain – _they’re fitting him for the shock that scrambles his brain_ – but all he feels are gentle fingers. “You’ve got a gigantic goose egg,” she murmured. “I mean, dude, it’s huge. You sure about a doctor?”

“No doctors,” he says again. “No police.” And for some reason, another word bubbles up form the quagmire that is his abused mind. “Please. Don’t tell them I’m here.” He’s not sure he’s talking about just doctors.

He forced his eyes to open, and the woman was bending over him, her expressive eyes showing concern. She had dark hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun, her blue eyes radiating concern. Her face was rounded, a sweet oval. He watched her hand come back up to push a lock of his hair out of his eyes. She made a face like a sneer, and the Soldier was ready for her abuse to begin. “Dude, when’s the last time you washed your hair?”

“I don’t remember,” he answered honestly. Usually they hosed him down in cold water and then performed maintenance on his arm. 

“Before you leave my apartment,” she said fiercely, “you’re taking a shower and washing this hair. I can tell that it will be freakin’ _epic_ if it were just maintained properly.”

This line of reasoning was nigh on incomprehensible to the Soldier. What reason would he have to care about his hair of all things? His handlers cut it when it got too long, but left it shoulder length since that made him look scarier. Psychological warfare at its finest. 

The woman looked down at his arm. “You know, I’ve been telling myself that that is a really cool arm sleeve, or tattoo, but now that I’m this close, that’s a fuckin’ metal prosthetic arm isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said, flexing his hand.

“Cool,” she breathed reverently. She reached for it, and again, he was surprised by how gently she handled it. He didn’t feel her touch, but it was wired into his nervous system. Bending the joints the wrong way or treating it roughly did cause pain. She stroked his hand, examining the articulation of his fingers. “This is some Stark-level crap, dude, and I want to know why you have it.”

“Classified.”

“Oh, right, NDAs galore hunh?” she said with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m curious, but contrary to popular belief, I’m not an idiot.”

“Good,” he replied, though he wasn’t sure why. There were more words on his tongue, but his programming had not broken to that degree yet. 

_Pain, Soldier, there will be pain if you disobey the programming!_

However, the expected psychosomatic feedback did not occur. The concussion was interfering severely. He knew there should be pain, there should be pain for not completing his mission goals, for giving in to the pain of the concussion, for allowing this woman to transport him with nary a threat to her life. _Fear is the ultimate tool of power. Strike fear, and no one will dare disobey._

The woman sighed. She picked up a glass of water and two pills. “Here, take this for the pain. Naproxen should help a little, maybe. I’m Darcy by the way.”

The Soldier took the pills, but didn’t say a word. The woman – Darcy – made circular motions with her hand. “And your name?”

“Soldier.”

“Seriously?!”

“It is what I am called.”

“Man, I thought I was given the short end of the stick for being named for my mom’s favorite Austen character,” she muttered. “Look, I’m going to go fix dinner. Get some rest.”

He carefully sat up, and towered over the woman as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “I go where you go.” His programming was deteriorating, but he had enough self-preservation to not let her out of his sight.

She opened her mouth, but then clenched it shut. “Sure,” she said, “Come on then, oh Stubborn One. I don’t care if you recover from the massive concussion!”

Again, words bubbled up when the Soldier should have been silent. He ruthlessly clamped down on them, his accelerated metabolism quickly blitzing his bloodstream with enough naproxen to relieve the physical pain. He got up, stiffly due to his bruised hip that would be gone in an hour or so. She turned on her heel, stomping out of her bedroom, and into the kitchen/living area. He noticed one bathroom just outside the bedroom, and that the windows were tightly covered. The furniture was worn, but plush, and none of it matched. Even the dining table and chairs were a motley assortment. No pictures hung on the walls, but an elaborate Thor’s Hammer worked in what looked to be pewter did. 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this!” Darcy burst out. “I mean, I can tell that you’re a super-secret-spysassin or something, and you probably plan to kill me once you’re healed up and ready to go, but damn my need to care for people! Damn it! First I devote three years of my life to following around a science obsessed chick who ditches me at the first damn opportunity to go gallivanting off across alien realms with her blond, totally cut boyfriend who happens to be a Norse God!”

She whirled around to him. “And guess what?! That’s in my own NDA! But fuck it! I won’t be living to worry about anyone coming after me, will I?! Because! I! Am! An! Idiot!” She banged down the bowl she was holding, and then turned back around to him. “AND! THIS! IS! SPARTA!”

The Soldier blinked at the outburst and replied, “This is Washington D.C.”

Darcy threw up her hands and turned back to dinner. She threw rice and vegetables into her rice cooker, and then set about pulling out what looked like chicken. The entire time she muttered about her situation, before she whirled back to him one more time. “And you know what? Bring it pretty boy! Just try to kill me! I tased the freakin’ God of Thunder, I’m not afraid of a concussed spysassin!”

“Clarify ‘spysassin’.”

She cocked her brow. “Sometimes you speak like a human being and sometimes like a computer.”

“Clarify.”

She growled. “Spy, assassin. Run ‘em together and you get spysassin.”

In two steps, he’d boxed her in in front of her kitchen counter. Darcy’s eyes were blown wide, and her face was pale. She was breathing quickly and shallowly, and the Soldier knew that he commanded her respect now. “How did you know?”

“Call it a hunch,” she said softly. Her voice was tremulous. “I mean, the all black leather, gigantic freakin’ knives, and war paint kind of scream it.” Her eyes moved past his face, and fell on his neck. She hissed. “You have a nasty cut there.”

He’d not noticed it for all the other pain, and it was hardly the first gash he’d had. But, all evidence to the contrary, Darcy was in fact stupid enough to reach up and touch the wound. He stiffened, but instead of prodding it with all the insensitive detachment of his usual doctors, her fingers were light, barely touching it. “Looks like it needs to be cleaned. You’ve got dirt, and I think greasepaint in there.”

She sighs, puts her head in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.” She looks back up to him, her eyes sparkling with renewed vigor. “Go sit down,” she commanded.

Without thought, he obeyed. She pulled out a box from beneath the sink, one marked with a red cross. She opened it, and selected a small square packet. It turned out to be rubbing alcohol, which she used to clean the area around the cut. Then, she wetted a small paper towel to clean out the debris. He sat still, his head still pounding, the wound on his neck stinging, his programming screaming at him. However, he couldn’t bring himself to push her away or bring this to a halt. For the first time in his entire life, another human was touching him with care. More inappropriate, treasonous words bubbled up, and he said out loud, “I won’t kill you.”

“Excuse me if I take that with a grain of salt,” she murmured as she applied butterfly bandages to help keep it closed. He was tempted to tell her that it is unnecessary, but conditioning still holds there. “Do you want a shower?”

“I won’t leave you.”

She sighed. “I’ll come in the bathroom with you, okay. But you’re sweaty, grimy, and greasy. I can throw this chicken in the oven and let you get clean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spysassin might have become one of my favorite made up words.


	3. Grumpy Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because cat videos with a spysassin are totes a good idea.

_We burn every magnet and spring, and spiral into the unknown . . ._

Darcy realized that she was a grade-A idiot. She was sitting on her toilet, back turned to the shower as a built – _like, really built_ – spysassin bathed. He’d dropped trou in front of her, but thankfully she’d kept her eyes on his face. However, she’d noticed how chiseled his muscles were. Damn her weakness for muscular men! Dammit! She still wasn’t sure why she didn’t make a break for it this very instant, but there was something nagging at her about his behavior. It was too clinical, too cold. Not to mention that he looked familiar. 

On top of that, Darcy was well aware that she was out of her league here. This guy was at the very least Coulson levels of awesome, and she knew that in a fight Coulson could kick her ass. Based on his dress and muscles, though, he was probably more like Brock Rumlow levels of awesome, which Darcy still knew was out of her purview. She’d met him once when she’d visited the Triskelion, and he was a total pig, but a strong, skilled one. She’d taken the time to look at his gear – while he had no firearms on him, there were plenty of bullets and other assorted types of ammo. The outfit was padded on the knees, and had to have been made of layers of Kevlar and leather. This was badass gear, and for some reason he hadn’t already killed her.

He turned off the water, and she tensed as she heard him exit. Rustles told her that he was getting dressed, and when he stepped up to her side, she stood up and nodded. “Alright, let’s go eat some dinner.”

He trailed her back into the kitchen, and she quickly went about serving up rice, veggies, and chicken. Soldier – _what the hell kind of name is that?_ – inhaled his food, and far from looking half dead like he had earlier, actually looked a little more alert. She noticed that it seemed like he could focus his sight more easily now. She made him help her with dishes, but he didn’t seem to protest. “Okay, back to the bedroom,” she stated flatly. “The least I can do is make sure big, bad Soldier heals correctly.”

He didn’t respond, but then again he only responded to one in every ten comments she aimed his way. She led him back to the bedroom, and plopped down on the mattress. He stood in the doorway, and she frowned. “Come lay down,” she said, patting the other side of her bed. It was a full, so there wasn’t a whole lot of room, but by now Darcy was enough of a pragmatist to realize that he wasn’t going to leave her alone. Alien invasions, Decepticons from another dimension, and Dark Elves could do that to a woman. 

Gingerly, he lay on the other side of the bed. Darcy watched him, intrigued by another thing she’d noticed. He seemed to vacillate between an inhuman robot and a shy human being, but those flashes of true humanity were few and far between. It was as if someone tried their level best to create an actual robotic man. She opened her mouth, but decided against poking the tiger with a stick. Instead, she picked up her latest schmoopy paranormal romance novel to read. She was especially fond of the shapeshifter ones. 

Soldier was laying beside her, just breathing. His eyes were open and staring at the ceiling, but Darcy did her level best to ignore him. She managed pretty well too, since after being in his company for about three hours, he hadn’t done anything to actually hurt her. He was big and scary, but she felt that he had to be pushed to violence. She didn’t plan on pushing him. She’d play along, let him heal up as long as he liked, and then let him leave. He was watching her like a hawk, and she knew that there was no conceivable way she would be able to call SHIELD for back up. That would probably bring about a horrible ending. 

“So,” she said out loud, pursing her lips, “you have a favorite movie?”

No answer.

“Favorite book? I’ve got a Kindle and an account with the local library. Their ebook collection is nothing to sneeze at.”

Nothing.

“TV? Do you watch TV?” She glanced over to make sure he was still awake, and he was. He was staring at her again, his expression blank. She sighed, but noticed something. Earlier, his eyes had been clouded, obviously unable to focus. There also had been a curious blankness. His eyes had reminded her of the whole fish they had at the grocery store, glassy and blank. Even his random flashes of humanity had not brought about any change in his dead eyes. But now there was some sort of life there, seething behind them. Instead of a dead fish, he now reminded her of Grumpy Cat, especially with his blue eyes. That thought caused her to snort, the chuckle, then snort some more. Very quickly it escalated to full blown laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked without anger.

She calmed just enough to answer. “You look just like Grumpy Cat.”

All she got in return was a confused look. Darcy reached for her cell phone, and got a crushing grip on her wrist for her trouble. She hissed, but said, “Dude, chillax. I’m just going to show you what Grumpy Cat looks like.”

He let go, but he scooted over so that he could look over her shoulder. They were so close that their heads were touching, but Darcy ignored that. What she couldn’t ignore was the scent of her almond-goat milk soap on his skin. It was really expensive, but the smell was amazing, and it was almost enough to distract her. She glanced over at him while she googled Grumpy Cat, and pulled up a picture of the famous feline. “Yeah, see, dude, you totally look like Grumpy Cat right down to the pretty blue eyes. But yours are darker. But they’re still pretty.”

Soldier didn’t say anything, just scooted back to his original position. Darcy sighed, and resigned herself to her only company being the music on her iPod. Occasionally she’d glance over at him, her eyes tracing his chiseled features. Not to mention the body encased in tactical armor. And boots. “Hey! Take your boots off if you’re going to lay on the bed!”

He gave her a blank look, but bent down and removed his heavy combat boots. He laid back, and Darcy found herself staring at his feet. Feet encased in black socks. She found herself smiling a little bit as she listened to Imagine Dragons and Bon Jovi. It was strangely companionable.

She didn’t turn on the news, and maybe if she had, things would have turned out way differently.  
~~~~~~~~

Not terribly far from the apartment that held the Soldier and his unwitting rescuer, Alexander Pierce sat with ill-concealed rage. “What do you mean you lost the Asset?”

Rumlow took a deep breath, annoyed himself at the turn of events. “The Winter Soldier went missing during our capture of Captain America.”

Pierce nodded his head and pursed his lips. “So not only did you lose Captain America, you lost the Winter Soldier too.”

“We’ve been running facial recognition software as well as checking out every car that was in the parking garage during the time frame. Surveillance shows that he followed Captain America into a parking garage and then the Captain leaving. The garage was swept, and blood was found on one of the parking decks. We’ve also checked local hospitals,” Rumlow responded with his own ill-concealed annoyance. 

Pierce looked to one of the HYDRA scientists assigned to the care of the Winter Soldier. “Will this affect his performance if he doesn’t have a session in the Chair?”

The scientist looked thoughtful. “It shouldn’t. Early results showed that it takes at least thirty-six hours without a session before the programming begins to fail. He should be okay for another twelve hours, and even then it will take a few hours before we reach critical degradation.”

“Good, then the op can proceed as long as you find the Soldier in the next eight hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed the title of the fic changing - because I realized this morning that I had a better song to go with it! So, apologies if that confused you a bit. Lyrics at the beginning of chapters now come from "Shatter Me" by Lindsey Stirling featuring Lzzy Hale.


	4. Winter Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy finds out just who she'd been hanging out with for the past eighteen hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just a quick warning, there is an F-bomb dropped this chapter.

_I pirouette in the dark, I see the stars through me, tired mechanical heart . . ._

The Soldier watched the woman sleep. His head had stopped hurting hours ago, but curiously the programming did not reassert itself. He did not feel the need to report back to base, or to chase down Captain America. Instead, he was content to stay sitting up on the bed, staring at the woman under the covers. She had uneasily changed into her sleepwear, all with her back to him. Without the black blouse and pants, he was able to see more of her body, and even through the pain of the conditioning and concussion he wondered what it would be like to have sex with her. His handlers never let him have sex, so he’s sure he’s never engaged in it, but random thoughts bubble up again, as though they were trapped pockets of air beneath deep water. 

The first one was that she was gorgeous with all the padding a man liked on a dame. Her skin was a creamy white, and his fingers itched to touch it. Silky, warm skin, and sweet plush lips – 

The shard of pain that struck him caused him to clench his jaw. The programming reasserted itself with force, causing him to lose track of his inane thoughts. By the time he got himself back under control, Darcy was under the covers and turning out the lamp. However, since then, it hadn’t returned. He’d even thought about having sex again without any bits of pain. Perhaps it was because he was in a holding pattern, and the programming was being followed more or less. He didn’t know.

The Soldier would get up periodically to check the perimeter, but always returned to sit on the bed. He had found on one of his sweeps her Taser, and decided to keep the weapon. Darcy slept on her side, moving around ever so often. After his perimeter check at about 2 AM, he let himself doze in a quick cat nap. She rolled, and he woke to her cuddling up to his waist. A shard of programming woke, cause a sharp stab of pain behind his eyes, but for the first time in his memory (which admittedly was fuzzy beyond the last eighteen hours) he didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. 

For a few minutes, he just allowed himself to just feel human contact. Her head was smashed against his side, her face up turned as her arms wrapped around him. Her other arm was curled up between her chest and his thigh. Her mouth was open in sleep, and her hair was tumbling down from its earlier bun. The Soldier cocked his head, and touched her face, gently. He’d never done that before, but her skin did feel like warm silk. He traced the features of her face, from the gentle arch of her eyebrows to the valley of her cheek. She had been kind, gentle, and even though she was afraid, she had not used that fear as a justification to hurt him. The Soldier began to pet her hair, at peace with the world for this first time in his memory. 

He dozed back off for another cat nap, but woke when Darcy pulled away from him. She sat up, blinking owlishly. “I, uh, I just cuddled you didn’t I?”

“Yes,” he answered softly. 

“Sorry,” she said as softly. She got up and went to the bathroom. He followed, and when she opened the door, she didn’t startle like she had the night before. Instead, she just sighed. “Come on, Soldier boy, let’s get some grub. Whatcha feeling like? Eggs? Bacon? Grits?”

This time it was his turn to blink owlishly. “Grits?” 

“Oooo, lemme guess, never been down South?” she laughed as she pulled down everything she’d need. “You ever had polenta?”

He opened his mouth to reply in the negative, because the Soldier was fed basic food, no frills. Meat, bread, simple vegetables. Food was not a pleasure to be shared with friends, but a necessity to be consumed and turned into energy, muscle, blood. However, another wispy voice and picture flooded his mind. “Yes . . . I have had polenta.”

She nodded. “Then you’ve basically had grits. Grits are made from the same thing as polenta, just a little soupier.” She stopped and cocked her head. “I think. But anyway, load em up on butter maybe add some cheese, and _bam_! They’re freakin’ delicious.”

He sat at the table, and watched her fix their meal. Her hair was a mess, half up and half down from her bun, and her baggy pajama pants puddled around her delicate feet. She began to sing to herself, and soon seemed to forget that he was even there as she got into the song. She turned and yodeled “ _I’m radioactive!_ ” before handing him a plate heaped with bacon, eggs, and a white gruel that had a yellow puddle of butter in the middle. Sitting on the cheap, Formica table, the plate looked unexplainably jaunty. 

“What would you like to drink?”

Before he could answer, there was a loud knock at the door. Darcy moved towards the door, but in a flash, the Soldier was out of his seat, and had wrapped a hand around her mouth. “Do not say a word about me.”

She nodded with wide eyes, and went to the door.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

Darcy was aware that she was certifiably insane. Like, _totally insane_. Instead of fear and terror at having a gigantic metal hand wrapped around her face, she’d focused on the fact that Soldier was solid. Like, abs of almost literal steel. And those arms! She’d admired his good looks last night, but damn! Those arms had muscles that didn’t quit! She opened the door, and found Brock Rumlow on her doorstep. Rumlow was a square-jawed, well-built dude himself, but there was an air of cruelty around him that had always put Darcy off. Suddenly, she felt underdressed, and really, really uneasy. “Good morning Agent Rumlow. SHIELD got another computer it needs to crack?”

“Morning, Miss Lewis,” he said, his eyes very much on the cleavage her sleep cami showed. “And actually, I’m here about a possible sighting of a wanted man. _Soldat!_ ”

Rumlow’s eyes went behind her, and Darcy turned to see Soldier standing behind her in full view. “The hell?” she breathed. 

Rumlow roughly pushed her into the house, and three more jackbooted thugs poured in after him. “Well, Miss Lewis, it was nice knowing you. Shame about this.”

One minute she was being roughly handled by Rumlow, the next she was again crushed against the hard muscles of Soldier. One hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, and his powerful forearm kept her squashed against his chest. The straps on the tactical vest hurt her mostly unprotected breasts, but she didn’t care because he was keeping them from shooting her. And she knew that they were going to shoot her. What ever the hell was going on, she was a threat, a non-entity that would become collateral damage. “You will not harm her,” Soldier’s voice rolled out, emotionless as ever. “Shoot her and I will kill you.”

Darcy chanced a peek at Rumlow. His jaw was dropped, and the other guys looked stunned too. “Soldier,” Rumlow began, “you have a mission.”

“I will comply,” Soldier answered, “but she will not be harmed.”

Rumlow’s eyes dropped to her, and she shivered. He pulled out a phone and dialed up someone. “Sir, we have a situation.”

He hung up, and only moments later, an older man walked into the room. The man was vaguely familiar, with rugged good looks that Darcy admitted were really handsome. His eyes were bright and earnest, and the hair on his head was a sandy red-gold that appeared to be his original hair color. He looked old enough to be her father, but he was probably a looker back in the day. He quirked an eyebrow at the scene. Soldier was holding the three thugs and Rumlow at bay with sheer scariness and her Taser while cuddling her against his chest. She also knew she probably looked a hot mess in her pajamas and unbrushed hair. “Soldier,” the man said, “Why are you not complying with Rumlow’s orders?”

His hand tightened on the back of her head. “She will not be harmed.”

The man cocked a brow, and looked down at Darcy. She gave him a wane smile and waved. “Hi, um, I have no idea what’s going on, but you can totally have your spysassin back, and I promise never to tell. I have like four NDAs already under my belt, trust me!”

The tall man grinned, and showed the charm that must have been as much of a weapon as a pistol. “Darcy Lewis correct? Degree in Political Science and hacker skills that impressed SHIELD HR. You must be quite a woman to catch our Winter Soldier’s eye.”

Darcy felt her eyes bug out. She had no idea what was going on, but she knew _that_ name. One of her professors had been a Russian ex-pat that told them stories of a bogeyman who haunted the intelligence communities of the world, an assassin so deadly that he never even needed a second try. This was the guy she’d spent the last eighteen hours with? The world’s top assassin? She timidly looked up at him and he looked down at her. She said the absolute first thing that she could think of. “Holy shit, no one ever told me the Winter Soldier was hot.”

She didn’t need to look up to know that the thugs and their ringleader were gaping at her. The tall man chuckled, and when she looked over at him, there was a calculating look in his eye. “Fine, Ms. Lewis, I’m hiring you right this minute to be my new personal assistant. Soldier, she will be with me during today’s op, and we can talk after that. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, let her go so that she can change. Ms. Lewis, please dress in a professional outfit.”

The Winter Soldier let her go, and Darcy stood motionless for a moment. “Wait, don’t I get a vote in this? Who said I wanted to be your personal assistant?”

The tall man strode forward. He didn’t touch her, and Darcy was aware that that was probably because of the man standing at her back. _The freakin’ Winter Soldier._ “Why, Ms. Lewis, this is your chance. Do you know who I am?”

She cocks a brow and unconsciously stepped back towards the Soldier. She could feel the heat of him at her back, and brushed the material of his pants with one hand. “No.”

He grins. “I am Secretary Alexander Pierce. I would think that a Political Science major wouldn’t want to lose a chance to work for the World Security Council.”

“Holy shit, that’s where I’ve seen you!” She glanced around as the truth sank in. Whatever she was involved in went deep and was big. Her blood turned to ice in her veins. There was no way she was surviving unless she went along, and maybe, just maybe there was a chance they’d leave her alive. “Ok, ok, can I have like half an hour to get ready?”

“You have fifteen minutes,” Pierce said.

Darcy turned on her heel and rushed back to her bedroom, not noticing that the Winter Soldier followed her. She didn’t even register him until she turned from her closet to find him standing in the doorway. “Thank you,” she said, “for making sure that they didn’t kill me.”

He closed the door, and leaned against it. “You’re welcome.”

She pulled open her closet doors, and grabbed the one professional/secretarial-looking dress she had. It was a vintage looking one that she adored in a dark plum. She pulled out a bra and underwear – god she hadn’t had a shower and didn’t want to die in dirty underwear – and shucked her clothing in double time. However, there, she stopped. What did it matter if she complied? Who was she kidding? These guys weren’t going to leave her alive! She was a threat to their plans, and she had no illusions otherwise. 

So, she stood there naked, tears running down her face. Where was her Taser? Maybe she could electrocute herself to death or something. In that moment, Darcy wanted with all her heart to choose the mode of her death. She didn’t want to take part in whatever farce Pierce was cooking up, and she didn’t want to agonize of the method of her own demise for one second longer than she had to. 

But then, she looked up to find the Winter Soldier’s eyes on her. Those eyes stared at her, and she kind of felt like they were staring into her soul. What had he seen? What had he done? Was his whole life’s mission to end other people’s lives? If so, why save her? She wasn’t anything special! She was . . . just Darcy, and he was . . . . He was the Winter Soldier. He was the most feared assassin in modern history, the mover and shaker of the world for almost fifty years. But yet, she couldn’t see him that way. He used terror only to control, and the only time his touch had hurt was when he’d pulled her close to protect her from Rumlow. As they stared at each other, the Soldier nodded to her, and she realized that she had been contemplating the nature of his existence while buck naked.

She blushed, but Pierce’s voice made her scramble to get dressed. “Ms. Lewis! Ten minutes!”

Once she was dressed, she got down into her closet to find the shoes that matched. They were cute vintage heels that were hella comfortable, but she wasn’t sure she knew where they were. Suddenly, cool fingers and leather touched her elbow. She looked up to find the Winter Soldier kneeling next to her. His blue eyes met hers, and she gave him a wane smile. His metal hand lifted up, and she could hear the whirr of gears as his fingers brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll protect you. I’ll find a way,” he said softly. 

Her smile became brighter. “Oh, doll am I?” She glanced around her room and settled on her shelf of stuffed animals. “Well then, Bucky Bear, I’ll trust you.”

When she looked back at him, his face was frozen. “. . . What did you call me?” he growled.

“Bucky Bear? Like the toy?” she said, pointing to the one she had on her shelf. “Somebody took the idea of the teddy bear and decided to honor a World War II hero by making a bear in his image. See? It’s wearing his usual outfit.”

“Who was he?” the Winter Soldier asked softly.

“He was a Howling Commando, one of Captain America’s posse. His real name was James Buchanan Barnes, like the President and I’ve always wondered what possessed his parents to stick him with that for a name. He died during the war,” she answered. “You know, now that I think of it, you do kinda look like him.”

The Winter Soldier’s jaw was clenched, but he nodded. “You can call me Bucky Bear.”

Darcy would later wonder what madness led her to do it, but she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Kissed the cheek of the spysassin that probably killed more people than the Chitauri invasion if the stories her professor told her were true. His skin was warm, and alive, and suddenly she wasn’t kissing his cheek anymore, but his mouth, and then he was sliding his tongue into her mouth and his hands over her face. He broke the kiss first, his eyes heavy lidded and the blue darker than before. “Oh my God I just kissed you,” Darcy said. “Holy shit.”

His grin transformed his face. “And I just kissed you, Darcy Doll.”

She giggled, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the shoes she’d been looking for. She put them on, and then took the Winter Soldier’s offered hands. She needed to go into the bathroom to brush her hair and teeth, but before she opened the door she turned to the Winter Soldier. “You meant it right? About protecting me?”

He nodded, his eyes soulful, and so far from yesterday’s dead eyed stare that she felt her heart twist. “What did they do to you?” she whispered. She wasn’t an idiot. A picture was starting to form of a man that was obviously not doing the whole spysassin thing because he enjoyed it. 

He cupped her face. “You’re the first person who’s ever treated me with kindness. With care, and you’ve been terrified through most of it. I promise, I will protect you.”

She smiled again, and nodded. “Okay, Bucky Bear.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rumlow cast a glance to the closed bedroom door. “Think he’s fucking her?”

Pierce shook his head. “Watching her most likely. Programming prohibits him from feeling sexual desire.”

The agent shrugged. “Then why the attachment?”

Pierce didn’t answer but instead called the science team charged with caring for the Winter Soldier. “Yes sir?”

“I have a question. Why would the Winter Soldier fixate on one person? Say, a young woman?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Well . . . uh . . . A few reasons. She might resemble someone he used to know. Our notes indicate that even with brain wipes he has had moments of recognition of people with familiar faces. He was active with the Soviet Red Room project for some time. Perhaps she resembles one of those girls. He could also be reasserting his moral compass. Remember, you decided you wished to play the morality card in order to help keep him docile since anything else required more extreme memory wipe methods. This woman is an innocent bystander. And . . . um . . .well . . .”

“Spit it out,” Pierce said sternly.

“A strong traumatic head injury could have accelerated the deterioration of his programming. We have records of an incident in the 60s where the Winter Soldier had to be completely reprogrammed because of massive deterioration.”

Pierce growled. “Dammit.” They only had two hours before the operation was to take place. There was no time to perform a wipe on the Winter Soldier. He hung up the phone, began to make some alternate plans for how Project Insight was going to go down.


	5. Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy learns just what she's in for.

_I’m scared of changing, the days stay the same, the world is spinning, but only in grey . . ._

The car ride to the Triskelion was nerve-tearingly terrifying for Darcy. Usually, this would be the moment when she’d get mouthy and pop culture-y in a piece of stick-it-to-the-man bravado. However, these guys would kill her, and not care. Phil Coulson would get annoyed and snark back, but these guys would just shoot her. The Winter Soldier had sat next to her, but he didn’t engage with her. He’d whispered to her before they’d left the bathroom that he would have to act like his programming was still intact – _whatever the hell that meant_ – and so he went dead eyed and cold again. 

Nothing was helped by the fact that Rumlow was staring at her like she was a side of beef, and Pierce had the fakest look of joviality on his face. 

When they arrived at the Triskelion, the Winter Soldier had to leave. Rumlow left with him. “And then there were two,” Darcy muttered.

Pierce grinned a little. “Alright then, Ms. Lewis, I’m going to be brutally clear. You will be dying today.”

Darcy froze. “But, the Winter Soldier –“

“Is a weapon. We humored him because he is a loaded gun that needs to be handled carefully. As soon as his part of the mission is done, he will return to our base to have his mind wiped. By this evening, he won’t even remember that he had any silly attachment to a Starbucks barista.” Pierce gave her a sad look. “Though, after checking my list, you were slated to die today anyway.”

“What?” she whispered.

“Our mission today is the launch of Project Insight. You are about to help me escort the World Security Council to my office where we will usher in a new world order under the protection of HYDRA,” Pierce continued. “After the launch of our three new helicarriers, they will begin to search for and kill anyone who could be a threat to our new world.”

“And how the hell will they do that?” she snapped.

“With a wonderful little algorithm that a dearly departed friend developed. Anyone who will not obey, will question authority, will fight us . . . They’ll die.” He gave another smile. The cold of it was so much worse than the winter that gave her Bucky Bear his name. “Suffice to say, you wouldn’t have survived today even if you’d never taken the Winter Soldier home with you.”

Darcy all but vibrated with hate. “You two bit Lex Luthor rip off! Who the fuck do you think you are to play God?”

Pierce’s hand was around her throat in seconds, and she realized that he was strong. Maybe not Bucky Bear strong, but still more than enough to hold her down. “Who am I? Why dear girl weren’t you listening? I am Alexander Pierce of HYDRA.”

HYDRA . . . The organization that Captain America and the Howling Commandos had fought way back in World War II. Darcy realized that her earlier assessment of the situation was just as bad as she had first thought. “Now, you’re going to be a good girl and act like my assistant. Any step out of line, and Project Insight won’t get a chance to kill you. I’ll just hand you over to Rumlow’s boys. Am I understood?”

When he let go of her neck, she nodded, but hate blazed in her eyes.  
~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha greeted her marks with all the mannerisms of the woman who she was impersonating, but it struck her as odd that Pierce’s assistant – that no one had counted on even being allowed in his office for the proceedings – looked like she absolutely loathed her boss.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The hangar bay doors opened, and Steve and Sam braced for a hell of a time. They could hear chaos behind them, and a pang went through Steve when he realized that there were probably hundreds of good agents that were being slaughtered like cattle behind him. However, they had one more person to worry about.

The Winter Soldier.

Bucky.

Who was currently standing nonchalantly on the landing pad, holding his favored weapon across his body. Quinjets were getting ready to take off in pursuit of the three helicarriers, and HYDRA agents were battling with SHIELD agents everywhere. However, the Winter Soldier just stood, unmoving. Cautiously, Sam and Steve approached the man. He wore no mask this time. “Captain America.”

“Soldier,” Steve answered. “Look, we –“

“I’ll help you if you help me.”

That brought them up short. Sam and Steve shared a look. “We’re listening,” Steve replied.

“Help me get my girl back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, some of the other chapters will be in the process of editing. I decided to change up some of the pairings for this particular universe, so the parentage of some of the children and their relationships were changed. :) Thought I'd warn you before you get to the end of the story.


	6. Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one time Darcy was okay being a damsel in distress.

_If I break the glass then I’ll have to fly, no one to catch me if I take the dive . . ._

Well, Darcy thought, at least her last hour wouldn’t be boring. Not only had she witnessed the spectacular reveal of Black Widow, but the resurrection of a man she didn’t even know was supposedly dead. She still only had a half-assed knowledge of what was going on, but she would never scoff at dramatic irony again now that she knew what it was like to be in one of those stories. Fury had given her an odd look. “Ms. Lewis.”

He usual irreverence reared its ugly head. “Yo,” she answered. “Glad to know you’re okay Mad Dog Moody.”

Fury rolled his eye, but finally focused back on Pierce. They’d already gone through their own little drama before Fury finally asked, “So what the hell is she here for? Is Lewis a HYDRA mole too?”

Before Pierce can get in another cutting remark that Darcy knew had to be shredding Nick Fury’s belief in the human race, she said, “He’s just pissed that the Winter Soldier likes me better than him.”

Even Black Widow stopped to turn and look at her. Pierce’s look was absolutely venomous. “Need I remind you, missy, about Rumlow’s men.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but that was before Black Widow and Kakashi showed up. Your plan is going down a hella lot differently than you . . .” she trailed off as she watched in fascination as a man was sent hurtling towards the window. He looked like a star-spangled missile as he shattered the glass, causing the rest of the Security Council to scream. Captain America slammed into the opposite wall, but bounced up quickly. “Secretary Pierce.”

“Captain, what in the hell are you doing here?!” Fury roared.

Captain America looked to her, assessing her. He nodded, just as the Winter Soldier came through the shattered glass followed by a tall black guy with mechanical wings. “Sorry, Fury, plan changed.”

“ _Give her back._ ” The growl was low, guttural, totally enraged. He stood, and took two steps with murder in his gait and eyes. 

“Soldier, why are you not doing your job!” Pierce gave his own roar.

The huge gun in the Winter Soldier’s hands came up. “I’m not your soldier anymore. I’m also not Fury’s. I don’t care what they need you for, I’m taking her back.”

Pierce turned evil, angry eyes on her. He’d not fitted her with one of the electronic kill tags, so the gun aimed at his head trumped anything he could do. “Go on then, Ms. Lewis.”

Darcy didn’t need telling twice. 

She flew across the room, and all but tackled the Winter Soldier. The best feeling in the world right then and there, was the feeling of his leather tactical vest digging into the side of her face. He wrapped his left arm around her, and pressed her close. Darcy couldn’t help but feel a little like she was a princess being rescued by a knight errant. She didn’t even think when she blurted, “Bucky Bear! You kept your promise!”

Again, there was a silence. “. . .Did you just call the Winter Soldier ‘Bucky Bear’?” Black Widow asked. She was giving Darcy a look like she had grown two heads. 

“How did you know?” Captain America blurted.

Darcy had not relinquished her hold on the Winter Soldier, but looked over at the Star Spangled Man. “Know what?”

“Know that he’s Bucky Barnes?”

“Wait, _what_?”

“While this has been an enlightening little scene,” Pierce said, “we’ve got work to do Soldier.” Then he began reciting a sequence of words in what Darcy guessed was Russian.

The Winter Soldier stiffened, but used his hold on Darcy to whisper something to her. She didn’t question him, but as Pierce said the final world she took a step back from the tense man and said loudly, “ _Soldat!_ ”

The only thing that kept Pierce from leaping at her was Fury’s pistol. The Winter Soldier turned lifeless eyes back on Darcy, and she felt her heart breaking. He didn’t recognize her. He said something to her in what sounded like Russian, but she’d never even thought about taking that as a language. “What?”

Black Widow came to the rescue. “Repeat after me,” she said at her console. She kept typing as she said a string of words slowly that Darcy dutifully repeated to the Soldier. They were awkward in her mouth, but she guessed that they were at least intelligible.

He nodded. “Ready to comply,” he repeated in flat English.

Darcy bit her lip, unsure what to do. “Do you remember me?”

He blinked at her. Then his eyes clouded in pain. “What . . .is . . .my . . .mission?”

The proverbial light bulb went off in her head. _Programming_. That’s what the Winter Soldier had called it. “Your mission is to remember the last twenty-four hours.”

She watched his eyes twitch, and then his jaw clench. 

(What she couldn’t know, what none of them knew, even all mighty Pierce, was that she had hit on just the right thing. HYDRA’s brainwashing was based on psychosomatic triggers that wouldn’t have worked on someone who could remember themselves, remember the people they loved, and so they had to wipe memories every twenty-four to thirty-six hours. They intentionally damaged his brain just enough to cause memory loss, but not brain injury. If that happened, the healing factor of the super soldier serum would kick in, and then all of their careful manipulations of physical brain and mental feedback loops would be undone. By asking him to remember, she was causing an error to occur: he had a mission that was so diametrically opposed to his programming – _remembering, sexual attraction, protectiveness, hatred of HYDRA, protect, protect, PROTECT_ – that the already faulty series of mental commands failed completely. Not even his trigger words would work anymore, but that would not be realized until much later.)

And then he was Bucky Bear again. His eyes warmed, his lips quirked up, and she had to give him a kiss. She made it quick, but she did catch Captain America’s poleaxed look. “Now, next mission,” she said, “Get rid of those helicarriers!”

“I have to protect you,” he replied. His tone brooked no argument. 

“That is very sweet, O Knight in Shining Armor, but if you don’t stop them, I’m dead anyway. Go. The Fast and the Furious back there will keep me safe. Right Director?” she asked looking back at him.

Fury sighed, “I don’t really want the Winter Soldier coming after my ass because I let his girlfriend get hurt. And you better believe that we’ll be talking about this later, Lewis.”

The Winter Soldier turned to Captain America and Friend. Cap held out a green disk and said, “This is how we take them down.”

“Before you go, Bucky Bear, can I have my taser back?”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She totally tased Alexander Pierce when he was through with his part in the Plan. Fury took her aloft in a helicopter, only to land on the riverbank. She was well aware that Fury would try to contain the Winter Soldier, and they hadn’t had a chance to talk about her part in all this, and she was so damn tired of authoritarians telling her what to do – _no, Fury, I’m not going to stick around for questioning right now! I just want to go home!_ – that in a fit of pique she managed to tase Nicholas Fury’s ass too. 

Then, her and her fierce 40s-esque outfit got into a cab to go home.

She knew before she even opened her door that he was in her house again. She’s not sure how he got here first, but she had a guess. He’s sitting at the dining table, looking weary and defeated. “Captain America kept saying I was his friend. Is that true?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Winter Soldier turned to look at his Darcy. She looked exhausted as she came to sit down at the table with him. “I . . . I don’t know what to believe,” she said, “But you do look a lot like him. If you’re not him, then you are one seriously ridiculously good doppelganger.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” she asked.

“For believing in me.”

“Well, we’re even because you kept your promise. You protected me.”

Her words caused an up-swell of feeling. Because without the programming, wisps of memory remind him that he was a weapon, cocked and ready to be fired at all times, that he’s killed men before, maybe women, maybe children, and that means that he’s a murderer and doesn’t deserve to even breathe – 

“Hey,” Darcy says gently, “They’re going to be looking for us soon. Do you feel like you’re up to meeting Captain America? To finding out if you are his Bucky?”

He looked back up at her. “I don’t . . . I’m no one’s Bucky but yours.”

She blushed and closed her eyes. A sigh gusted from her before she opened her eyes again. “This is the craziest, most insane thing I’ve ever thought of doing, and I totally took on the heads of HYDRA and SHIELD today, and tased both of them. I freakin’ tased a Norse God. Now, give me about ten-twenty minutes to pack a bag, and we’ll blow this pop joint.”

“What?”

“Look, you and me.” She smiled. “We’ll go and we’ll figure out who you are. Okay? I’ve got plenty of false IDs to get us out of the country, and I can empty my savings. It’s only about $20,000, but it should keep us going for a little while.”

“How did you get $20,000?” he asked quizzically as he rose and followed her back to her bed room. 

“My parents died in a car accident. Their life insurance and my other inheirtence helped pay for a lot of things.”

He looked around her cozy bedroom, and felt a flash of guilt. “I can’t ask you to leave this,” he said, his voice sounding timid even to his own ears. 

Darcy looked up at him with her own melancholy expression. “Bucky Bear, I was an only child and my parents are dead. I don’t make friends easily at all and my one friend in the whole world chose her boyfriend over me – I have no one. You are the first meaningful relationship I’ve made in almost six months, and I can’t just leave you hanging.”

He ducked his head, but felt her arms around him. “Plus, you’re a good kisser.”

They both chuckled. “I . . . You know you don’t have to feel like you need to –“

She held up a hand. “Look, if you were going where I think you were going, don’t worry I feel the attraction too. I . . . I want to see where this goes. If we become a couple, awesome! If we stay friends, that’s awesome too, because hey! You’re way cool.”

She finished up her packing, and then turned to grab her Bucky Bear off of her shelf of stuffed animals. “So, you ready to go?”

He nodded, and they left the little duplex outside of Washington. When Captain America arrived twenty minutes later, he found no trace of either the Winter Soldier or Darcy Lewis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue tomorrow, and then, hopefully, the sequel can begin!


	7. End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole gang is here.

_Somebody make me feel alive, and shatter me!_

“. . . So, Darcy and I went incognito around Washington for a little while. She was setting up getting a passport for us so that we could get out of the country since that was another one of her areas of expertise, and I started to try to remember who I was.” Bucky looked around, and realized that while he had been focused on telling the story to the kids, he’d attracted an even bigger audience. 

Steve and Jane were perched beside their kids, while Bruce and Betty shared a seat on one of the swings that were set beneath the trees in the backyard shared by the Barneses and the Rogerses. Tony had joined Ferro on the ground, as had Pepper. Peter and Mary Jane Parker sat next to their adopted father figure. Sam and Natasha were perched on the special trellis between their house and the Barnes residence. Vision and Wanda had joined them, while Scott and Hope sat beneath on the chairs provided. Clint and Laura shared the loveseat under the trellis as well, and Rhodey and Evangeline sat with them with their toddler, Amanda. Loki and Sigyn sat on the ground beside Scott and Hope with their fairy cats forming fluffy back rests. Pietro was lounging in the tree house with Sharon. Even Phil and Maria had come over. Anyone who had children under the age of six had also brought them, and Bucky blushed a bit to realize that the entire residential population of the compound was sitting listening to him tell the story of how he and Darcy met.

Speaking of the devil, she was standing behind the kids, but now that the story was done she came to plop onto the top step of their porch. She smiled at him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

“But that’s not the end!”

Everyone looked to Jacob Coulson. He held his hands up in frustration. “You haven’t actually fallen in love with each other yet!”

“Yeah! And what about Mom’s abilities?” Rebecca cried out.

“And the Sokovia Accords!” Sarah Margaret piped up. “You haven’t even gotten into all that!”

“You have to go on,” Grant said. “Please?”

Darcy and Bucky shared a look. Darcy grinned and nodded. “Well, as to the first and the second, those are short, but oh boy, can we tell you about the Sokovia Accords . . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thank everyone who has commented and enjoyed this fic. I enjoyed writing a bit of light hearted fun, and I'm happy that so many people enjoyed it with me. 
> 
> And yes, there is a sequel, totally complete, and to be posted as soon as I finish posting this chapter. Still will update daily as I edit and finagle. 
> 
> Thank you!


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